nothing and too much
by KiaForrest
Summary: tag for The Message. She wanted to believe Tracey mighta been helped, if he’d hadn’t been carrying around somebody else’s guts. Knew better than to say it, but couldn’t help feeling it. Like needing to see everyone on board, it was embarrassing, the wanti


**Disclaimer:** I don't own. I just play. Sue if you must. I have $1.59 in the checking account. There are 19 sticky pennies in the change jar, many children on the place and even more cats & plastic fish that might bring you wealth beyond your dreams...or not  
**Summary/Warnings:** tag for The Message. _She wanted to believe Tracey mighta been helped, if he'd hadn't been carrying around somebody else's guts. Knew better than to say it, but couldn't help feeling it. Like needing to see everyone on board, it was embarrassing, the wanting to have faith, when everything around ya said otherwise. _

**Note:**Kaylee/Mal subtext intentionally implied.

**nothing and too much  
**  
Letting go of Tracey's recording wasn't easy.

Kaylee tried to find something to fill her palm. Took Simon's hand. Didn't work. His hand was cold as the corpse, hers was warm but lonely inside the gloves Mal had given her. She knew Simon took her touch as forgiving or apology; probably had no certainty about which he preferred. Didn't matter. His sigh didn't soothe either of them.

She couldn't look at Tracey, couldn't take her eyes off his folks. Wondered once more, what she'd say into a recorder for her folks. What words could explain this life and the people who flew with her. They'd understand the choice, the joy in the work, but the ones she claimed as family now; they'd struggle some over that.

Watching Mal and Zoe, she doubted either of them would have an inkling of what to say to her folks. Both of them had seen death plenty, but those living and hoping for answers distressed them, made them stiffer than Tracey now was. Kaylee knew there was no answers would satisfy. The grieving had no ears to comfort when the cut was freshest.

Shepherd was speaking consolation, gentle, as was his way. Tender smile, brows low, heart and hands extended without intruding, all just right for a man of God. Tracey's moma seemed to find comfort, enough to offer them all shelter for the night. Mal declined, nodding with his chin toward the family surely needing space and warmth.

"We're honored by the invite, but won't be intruding, thank you all the same." He shook Tracey's father's hand, allowed his moma to kiss his cheek. Turned back to the ship, nodding at Book, "Say your peace over him, won't be stopping for long."

Zoe shared a memory of Tracey from the war days. Made the family huddled round the coffin laugh as if Zoe'd pulled a string. Was probably an old story, repeated a time or two hundred. Everyone knew it was funny and when laughter was expected. Numb folks needed little prodding to grab onto something amusing. Especially folks used to the harsh life of St. Albans.

They were strong folks not likely to carry on no matter how it hurt. Tears would be wiped away and chores tended come sunrise, no doubt. Kaylee had almost forgotten what it was like, living on a world, working when you could, hungry when you couldn't, laughing when your chest burned. The pace of days on _Serenity_ was different, even when times were slim, didn't have to wait for sorrow to laugh, or to feel full.

"You ready to go?" Simon's voice nudged Kaylee more'n the squeeze of his hand.

She nodded at Tracey's moma once more, though she doubted the woman really saw anyone. Her smile deepened the crevices in her face, made the bits of silvery hair fluttering around her face seem thicker than they were. Shouldering closer to Simon, Kaylee sighed, "I wonder how many sons she's planted."

"Who?" Simon pushed a branch back so they didn't have to duck or get sloshed with snow. He was considerate, when he wasn't thinking about it.

"Tracey's moma. Don't look like the first time she's lost a son, does it? It's like she knows what's to come." Kaylee stamped her feet, waiting for the others despite the cold.

Simon glanced over his shoulder, not surprised to see Shepherd Book refusing the coins from the broad, but bent, man's hands. Simon considered what he saw, what he knew. "They say there's nothing worse than loosing a child. We used to toss a coin to see who had to go tell a parent. It was harder than trying to save a child. Most parents just knew. Didn't really need to be told."

Kaylee nodded. "When you're watching for hope, you're bound to see the lack."

"River – no!" Simon hissed; darting after his sister who was forming a snowball to hurl at one of the boys who'd splattered her backside with tight packed snow. "Not now, mei-mei."

"He's asking for it," River giggled as the boy snickered and slithered behind his bigger brother. "Wants to play."

Simon brushed the snow from her hands, steered her inside while chattering at her about respecting the family's grief. He paused beside Kaylee, "Coming?"

Kaylee shook her head, "I'll wait. Go get warm."

"You all right?" Simon frowned, "You didn't get hurt when…?"

"Me? Oh no. I'm fine. Not even a scratch." Kaylee grinned, as if that proved it.

"Asking for it!" River twisted from Simon's hold on her shoulder, skittered into _Serenity_ and sang back at her brother. "Listen, you boob."

"Wait. River!" Simon slid up the ramp, his arms wind-milling graceful as the pine branches in the wind. Kaylee couldn't help the giggle that bubbled free. Even slipping on the icy ramp, Simon was shiny to look at.

Wash wasn't smiling or laughing, but his eyes knew what she'd been appreciating. Bumping her shoulder and rubbing his arms, he said, "Best check on damage. Mal's going to want to lift off this rock sooner than later."

Kaylee followed him in, glancing back to be sure the others were coming too. She couldn't help being antsy about folks being left behind. Wouldn't have admitted that's why she was waiting, not even to the Captain. Embarrassed to be troubled, she wished to be stronger for the millionth time.

"What ya cookin' tonight, Shepherd?" Jayne's voice was quiet, but he couldn't deny the grumbling from his stomach.

"Not sure yet." Book nodded at Wash and Kaylee, "Better be something warm though, huh?"

"I'm gonna go dry off, want some help?" Jayne's voice faded as did Book's response. Their laughter drifted to Kaylee, like the snow falling in the darkness.

"You all right, Kaylee?" Zoe shoveled snow off her shoulders. Wash vigorously assisted so's she laughed and then shoveled Wash away.

"Gonna go check about damage." Kaylee hit the ramp controls on her way, feeling her chest ease as the hatch secured everyone within.

Wasn't much laughter at the dinner table. Mal and Zoe had already told the funny remembrances of Tracey, when they thought he was dead. After nearly getting them all killed, nothing about Tracey's existence seemed bold and dashing. Or if it did, it was twisted up with his second death and their part in it.

Some men couldn't be helped, Mal had once told Kaylee, his teeth grinding while Jayne swaddled bandages around his shoulder. She wanted to believe Tracey mighta been helped, if he'd hadn't been carrying around somebody else's guts. Knew better than to say it, but couldn't help feeling it. Like needing to see everyone on board, it was embarrassing, the wanting to have faith, when everything around ya said otherwise.

-000-

Shepherd asked her to help with the dishes. They chatted about weather on St. Albans, and how nice it was to get mail, usually. Since she'd received no mail from home, figured there was no work lately, else they woulda sent a letter. Shepherd told her about being a boy, some mischief with a snowball against the side of a teacher's head – knocked her hair clean off.

"Course, it was a wig, but I didn't know that. Thought I'd scalped her bald. Not sure who screamed louder, me or her." He'd laughed. Rich and low in his chest, calling tears to Kaylee's eyes so suddenly, she liked to drop the cups she was putting away.

Startled her when Book brushed a tear off her cheek, no teasing grin or mocking words, just patient. Met her eyes, might have seen clear through to her soul, if she hadn't ducked her head and excused herself. He blocked her escape.

"No need to be ashamed of caring, Kaylee. No need at all." He squeezed her shoulder, "Universe needs more of it, not less."

She knew her damn lips were trembling and blinked to make the tears not fall. "I got to check on a few things, Preacher. Think you can finish up on your own?"

"I can, but won't be as enjoyable." Shepherd stepped away. "Notice you're leaving me with the pots."

Her giggle eased the tension. "Cagey plan huh?"

"Down right scary. Next thing I know you'll be plotting crime." Man turned to those pots as if they were precious service.

Kaylee hesitated, but left the kitchen without another word. Didn't have any that would come out without a mess of tears. She wasn't a crybaby, but living with folks who shed no tears, it was all too easy to look like one, even if all you did was sniff. Couldn't sob in her bunk, it would echo and call out to the man sleeping in the bunk beside hers. Happened once, was mortifying enough for her to find a compartment after that.

-000-

Kaylee didn't normally drink her engine made hooch. Passed it around to others, but seldom felt the need of it. The pleasant buzz just never quite met her expectations of how feeling good should be. The fuzzy way of seeing was funny, but not like laughing over a story, or a plan for crime they figured would work, long as nothing went wrong. Laughing over the certainty a plan would work, even if things went wrong, was a fuzzy enough vision, for sure. Didn't need liquor to get it. Not usually.

Hooch by her side, tucked into a tight spot, she wasn't sniveling though. Had planned on it. Even stuffed an extra thick rag in her pocket so's she could mop up after. Tears wouldn't come. She just felt … nothing and too much.

She was more'n confused by how a friend, carried on to _Serenity_, special enough to mail himself to Mal and Zoe, would turn so suddenly with a gun to her head. From worrying about his folks one minute and amazed to hear Zoe laughed another minute then choking and dragging her, for all the 'verse like he meant to pull the trigger.

Most of her wanted to say she knew he wouldn't have, all of her knew better. Tracey woulda popped her if he even thought it mighta got him away. Woulda felt sorry about it later, maybe, but he mighta forgot to….

Swirling the liquid in the tin cup, Kaylee wondered if she'd ever stop being such a – what? Shepherd admired her caring. Simon admired her for looking for the bright side. Zoe thought she was nearly genius at mechanical bits & even enjoyed her humor. Had patience with Kaylee few others did. Inara believed there was someone beautiful inside, under the grime and rough ways. Wash understood her, liked her anyway. Jayne was like many men she left behind and others they traded with, tough enough to survive, soft enough inside to keep wanting more'n just getting by. Ready to take aim, but able to wear a hat his moma sent with pride.

Mal had trusted her to keep Tracey strapped in, out of the way. She hadn't been able to do that. That thought had her swallowing the entire cup in one gulp. But, Tracey was a friend. Weren't supposed to have to trap or lock up friends, weren't supposed to have to worry about them shooting you – or shooting them. Men who worried about their mother's generally didn't go around blasting at folks for no good reason. Kaylee just couldn't figure out the reason….

She sloshed a bit more into her cup, wondering what else she'd missed? Who next would turn on her cause she was such an idiot, looking for the smile instead of the gun? Didn't make her want to cry, just made the hooch burn hotter in her. Kaylee was afraid every friend was someone to fret over now, like she dithered when folks were not back on the boat on time.

Slapping the cork back in the bottle, she backed out of her hideaway. "Maybe I'll just get used to it."

"Get used to what, Kaylee?" Mal's voice, smooth as the liquor wasn't, made her jump.

"Uh, hi Cap'n." She swayed a bit, gripping the jug to her bosom, wondering if he'd notice she'd had a few cups, or more. "What are you doing down here so late?"

"Late? Thought it was early," he was smirking. Musta noticed, he was quick to see clear, usually.

Kaylee couldn't remember if he'd asked her if it were early or late, decided to bluff her way through and hope for the best. "I was just putting this to bed, heading there myself. Did you want some?"

Mal took the jug before she dropped it. "Didn't like your other hiding place?"

"My – my what?"

"For the booze. The hiding place you used to use. Trying out a new one are you?" His words came rushing at her like one complicated, maybe hyphenated foreign sounding expression.

She shook her head, trying to clear it a bit. Man was grinning at her; so she musta said something right, wish she knew what it was…. "Nice smile," she grinned back at him.

His hand was resting on her shoulder, steadying her, "How much did you have?"

"How much what?" Kaylee leaned her cheek against his knuckles and he shifted to put his other hand on her other shoulder. She couldn't decide which set of knuckles she preferred. Like a wobbly-headed doll, she bobbed side to side, compared the backs of his hands, just a few times, maybe more. "Left hand, definitely the left."

His chuckle rippled down her arms, made her fingers curl into her palm. "You ought to get some sleep. I'll put this away."

Kaylee looked at the deck, noticed her best blue jug of hooch sitting by Mal's foot. "Shouldn't leave that out. Temptation, not to mention it's pretty flammable."

"Don't say?" He kept one hand on her shoulder, squinched down to loop his thumb through the handle and steered her toward the stairs. "I'll be sure and remember that, next time."

"Good." Kaylee stumbled across the hatch to the engine room. It was a bit tricky how it moved like that, but the hammock was there. Just ready for her to tumble in to, before muttering to the man fumbling in the side locker where she kept the booze, "Don't drink too much, not a good batch. Night."

"Morning." Mal whispered. Had planned to nudge her toward her bunk, or the coffee if she turned to yammering. Couldn't remember seeing Kaylee pass out from drinking, couldn't really remember seeing her drink more than a bit, not even on Canton. 

Damn Tracey. Wasn't worth her anguish. No doubt she'd gone off to cry, but finished before he found her. Kaylee knew more hiding places than even he did, found them as she worked. When it came to stashing cargo, Kaylee was the mastermind.

"I sat here listening to him talk," Kaylee brushed his hand with her fingers, catching his troubled gaze. "Over and over, listened to his words about the war, his folks and wanting to be carried home with his eyes closed. It was all deception … words. Didn't mean them. His poor moma."

Mal thumbed her palm, stilled her swaying in the hammock with his knee against her hip. "He meant them Kaylee, just not like you heard them."

"Does seem to be my problem." She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and then left the back of her hand over her face. "I hear 'pretty much the only girl' but feel 'bottom of the barrel.' Can't even hold a man's interest for five minutes – next time, get 'Nara. She'd know what to do."

"When you're sober, we'll talk about that." He flicked an old blanket across her and dimmed the lights.

"No we won't." She giggled. "You'll pretend like this never happened and so will I."

"As much as you imbibed, doubt you'll remember enough to pretend anything, Kaylee." Mal lost the battle to be tight lipped and smiled at her. Too damn easy to smile when she was gazing at him with humor and hurt splotching her face. He patted her shoulder, inching toward the door so's he wouldn't gather her up and do foolish things neither of them could pretend to forget. "Get some sleep, we got deliveries to make and crime to find."

"How do you know who to trust?" Kaylee's sigh lanced though Mal. Like the bullet he'd carried for Tracey all those years, he couldn't dodge her question.

"You don't." He turned to face her, expecting protest. Found her already asleep. Knowing the weight settling in his stomach had more to do with the sorrow in Kaylee's confusion than Tracey's death, Mal stepped through the hatch, whispering so's not to wake her. "Maybe you'll get used to it, darlin'. Doubt I ever will."


End file.
